Verneresse 3

Three: Lurkers. The Tables Turned. Three Moons.

Aboard the boat from Caerdyl, in a nicely appointed cabin somewhat away from the others, the two hooded passengers removed their cloaks to reveal lean, muscular, and decidedly feminine forms dressed in the habit of ninjas, save for masks. One of them, the ranking officer, was asian by descent (one should note, here, that all ethnicities are equivalent to those in our world rather than factual)--her face was tapered and gently angular, softened by long eyelashes and the shimmering, sliken straight black hair that hung down her back save where part of it was pinned by two long needles into something like a bun. The other had a haughty, eastern European exoticism to her features: she had a lean, cruel beauty about her face, and her chestnut hair was pulled back into a single longish ponytail. They spoke in hushed tones.
Kiana, the asian one, gave soft commands as the two strapped on their swords and checked their collection crystals. AThere are multiple threats aboard this ship. We drain everyone, in turn, just to be certain.@
AEnergy=s energy, after all,@ Illiana said, running her gloved thumb along her blade.
AQuite,@ Kiana said. AWe begin with the first cabin on the left. It has two occupants. We wait until they are separated--when one is in the bathroom--and we strike separately. Extract information if you can; if not, just drain them and leave them bound. The magic of the crystals should keep the sounds from carrying beyond the walls of the room. Be quick, merciless, and thorough--we have five passengers and the captain to drain after these two. And try to refrain from lethal violence--some of these people are important to the mistress= plans. If you must fight, do it barehanded, and make your first strike to the groin or the breasts. Disable.@
Illyana nodded, her eyes flickering with disciplined eagerness. Silently, swiftly, the two raced to the deck and climbed onto the side of the ship, where they could observe the goings-on in the next cabin through the porthole.
Ezra, the puritanical-looking, narrow-boned old man, peered myopically at a tome of ancient knowledge as Leah, his voluptuous blonde companion, brushed her golden locks. He paged nervously through the volume=s pages as the faint whisper of her brush intruded upon his fragile concentration. AWill you stop that!@ He bellowed, glaring at his lovely amanuensis.
Leah sighed. She was used to Ezra=s peremptory treatment, but he payed well for her secretarial services, so whe was willing to indulge even his most tyrannical demands. Without a word, she rose, smoothed her silk nightgown, and padded barefoot into the bathroom.
Moments after Leah closed the door behind her and Ezra sank querrulously into the sheets, Kiana and Illyana silently opened the porthole and crept through, deftly blocking any draft with their bodies as they squeezed through the small space. Kiana nodded toward the bathroom, and Illyana, silent as smoke, crept to the door. Kiana tossed a restraint sphere at Ezra=s oblivious, half-slumbering body even as Illyana threw open the door to the bathroom. Leah had just finished washing up, and squealed in shock and dropped her towel when faced with the cruel, beautiful ninja. Expeditiously, Illyana tossed a restraint sphere at the statuesque blonde beauty, swathing her in mummy-like wrappings from shoulders to ankles.
Similarly wrapped, Ezra was indignant to say the least. AHow dare you ruffians mistreat a man of the cloth? I suppose you=re after money. Well, you shan=t get it!@
Kiana smiled a reptilian smile and pulled off the covers to reveal his two long, angular, fur-tufted bare feet. His spindly toes worked nervously. APlease, sir,@ she crooned breathily, teasing. AJust accept it. It will be so much easier.@
As Kiana=s fingernails whispered over the dry, calloused soles of his feet, old Ezra jolted as if struck by lightning, his curling toes made a sound like firecrackers going off, and he let out a wheezing squeal of laughter that sounded uncommonly like a hog call. AWHOOOOOOEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!NOOOOOOOOHOHOHOOHOHO!!@ Kiana, tickling the bottoms of the old man=s feet for all she was worth, allowed herself a laugh at his plight. ABy the Sorceress, he=s a ticklish old bastard, isn=t he Illyana? I=ve never seen a man jolt like that without someone squeezing his ballocks.@
Ezra didn=t know what to do. His humiliation vied in his mind with the sheer sensory overload of the tickling this Eastern tart was giving his vulnerable feet. He cackled and howled, his long toes wiggled and crossed, and his breath came in gasps and gulps. What scandal, for a man in his position to be brought low by a child=s torment! Tears rolled from myopic eyes down his leathery cheeks as the Asian minx tormented his ticklish feet. The last thing he heard before slipping into unconsciousness was Leah=s voice shouting, AStop! You=ll kill him!@
Kiana slipped her now-glowing energy crystal into an interior pocket of her uniform. Illyana turned her attention to her charge, who had just dared to speak out against their actions.
AHe is not dead. We are not barbarians,@ Illyana said in a heavily accented voice. AWe merely have a job to do, and the old man was part of it. Now,@ she said with a smile like a scimitar, ASo shall you be.@
Leah took to begging immediately as her captress laid her on her back and lifted her bound legs up into a chair. Leah=s bare feet were pinned in place by the chair back. APlease...please....come on, don=t do it,@ Leah whimpered, her mature, commanding voice reduced to a tremulous rasp. Illyana looked coldly at the broad, wrinkling soles of Leah=s large bare feet. The buxom blonde=s toes were clenched like fists; her calf muscles corded and tensed. AWhat a large canvas you give me to work with,@ she teased.
AHey, go to hell,@ Leah said angrily, her vanity overcoming her fear. Illyana smiled again, picked up Leah=s bristly hairbrush, and began to run it lightly over the barefoot blonde=s big ticklish feet.
AYAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!STAAAHAAHAAHAAAPPP!!!!@ Leah screamed with laughter as her helpless bare feet were tickled and tormented by the ninja woman with the brush. She had known that her feet were awfully ticklish, had winced at Ezra=s torture, but none of her expectations or empathizing could have prepared her for this torture. Illyana alternated brush strokes, sometimes digging the bristles deep into the wrinkled bare soles in a horizontal attack, forcing deep belly-laughs out of her prisoner, sometimes holding back the round, well-formed toes of one foot or the other and ever-so-lightly flicking the bristles along the taut arch in a vertical pattern, making Leah jolt and jerk and squeal and whinny.
Leah=s big, well-formed bare feet were perfect targets for Illyana=s torture techniques. Healthy and strong as she was, she put out levels of energy that Ezra never approached, and, though she was certainly at least as ticklish as her consort, she lasted far longer. Soon, boredom dictated that Illyana change her technique. From a pouch, she produced a long, firm but pliable egret feather and began tickling it over Leah=s sensitized soles. After the comparative roughness of the brush, the feather was maddening in its lightness, evoking wracking fits of giggles when drawn up the soles or between the toes.
Leah couldn=t stand it: it was the worst torture she had ever experienced. With a last desperate effort, she fought and writhed and managed to flop onto her belly, her golden hair falling over her face in a veil of luminous dissaray. Unfortunately, she realized, she was no better off; in fact, the soles of her ticklish feet were now turned upward, somehow more helpless than before. Illiana smiled down at the pink, wrinkled soles, the cute, wiggly little toes seeming to beg for mercy even as their owner gasped for breath. It was then that she applied the cruellest technique of all. She reversed the feather and began to trace the smooth, hard quill tip up and down the very apex of the barefoot woman=s arches.
Leah=s eyes flew open and a bellowing scream of hilarity escaped her. She laughed full tilt now, not shrieking and giggling, but loud and full, as if she had just heard a terrific joke. Her bare toes wiggled helplessly; her breath became labored. Her laughter died into squeaks after about ten minutes, but the heaves that wracked her body grew no weaker until at last she achieved the blessed boon of unconsciousness.
Illiana slipped her glowing crystal into her uniform. AFirst two down,@ she said, smiling triumphantly at Kiana.
Kiana nodded. AThese have been the easiest,@she said ominously.
The two young ninjas left their slumbering victims and crept swiftly down the corridor toward the other cabins. They moved silently, blending into the heavy shadow, supremely confident in their abilities....
Until they rounded a blind corner and found themselves face-to-face with Drumpf and the asian man who came aboard with the two valkyries. Both man and dwarf were fully arrayed for battle, Drumpf in his chainmail waistcoat and the asian man in a light, flexible suit of leather armor. Neither looked amused.
AYou have a great deal for which to answer,@ the asian man said evenly. Kiana and Illyana, as one, sprang to the attack. They were trained warriors, deadly with weapons or with bare hands, their skill more than making up for any lack of masculine strength. Within three seconds, both women were laid out unconscious on the floor. Drumpf cracked his knuckles and smiled at the asian man. ANot bad for a couple of geezers, eh, Khan?@
Khan smiled grimly. He swiftly found the amulets in each woman=s uniform; he gave one to Drumpf and kept the other for himself. Then, he hoisted the women over his broad shoulders and carried them to Drumpf=s chamber.


Aboard the pirate ship, Lorelei=s three blonde nymphettes had taken it in mind to tease the bound Firbolg. Because he could not be made to swear obedience, which Maeve had done as much for the sake of her crew as from capitulation to her torment, Firbolg was kept chained in the brig. His great arms were manacled behind his back, and his legs were trapped in a massive set of stocks meant to hold ogres. He grumbled and muttered to himself until he heard the hatch above open.
With the faintest whisper of sound, three white-clad, barefoot maidens came down the steps and regarded him coyly. Though all were similarly (magnificently, Firbolg had to admit) built, each had a hint of uniqueness to her features that enhanced her beauty. Ellara, the one on the left, had a slightly darker cast to her skin than the other two--she was a creamy brown while they were gold. Her eyes were dark and full of sly merriment, and her dark blonde hair hung in thick, soft waves around her shoulders. Sela, the one in the center, was perhaps five years older than the other two, putting her at perhaps 27. Her hair was expertly coiffed in a layered cut that left a fringe of bangs that offset her stunning blue eyes. She had the collected, authoritative but still gleeful air of the master of ceremonies in a ridiculous situation. Ariadne, the one on the right, had an air of slightly more wide-eyed innocence than the other two. Her green eyes were large and limpid, and her long, straight, thick blonde hair was gathered in a single ponytail. She looked Firbolg over almost hungrily, but with a hint of excited fear.
Sela, the leader, glided forward, taking almost theatrical, balletic steps while casually appraising Firbolg. AGood heavens, sir Firbolg. That certainly doesn=t look very comfortable. You really should just agree to cooperate, you know. The others are being treated very well indeed.@
Ellara pranced forward and rumpled Firbolg=s crimson hair. AYes, darling. I=m quite certain that you could even become friends with us ,@ she leaned close and whispered breathily in his ear, Awith all of us.@
Firbolg shifted uncomfortably. ANo offense to you ladies--you=re no doubt just doing your jobs. But I can=t ally myself with someone who took my ship out from under me, and treated my companions the way your mistress has.@
Sela smiled. AOf course. You are, after all, a proud man of honor, as we can plainly see.@
AStill,@ Ellara said, moving in front of him and leaning forward so that he could fully appreciate her cleavage. AThere must be some way that we can make you more comfortable.@
Ariadne came forward to stand behind Firbolg. APerhaps you have an itch?@ She asked, the tension in her voice belying the innocence of her appearance.
Firbolg had, in fact, been tormented for several minutes by two rival itches--one on his back and one on his nose. Seeing no harm, he admitted these to the women. Ariadne leaned forward cutely and gently but effectively scratched the half-giant=s great nose, bringing him relief. Sela began a languorious and glorious scratching of his broad, muscled back. Firbolg sighed and began to relax as the other two joined her in massaging his arm muscles. He found that he had to put some conscious effort into relaxing, though--he was, in spite of himself, quite inflamed, and if he allowed himself to erect, he would have quite a difficult time hiding it from his visitors.
AOh, you poor thing,@ Ellara breathed. AI=ll bet you itch all over, cramped up down here like this. In fact, I think we should do more for you. I think we should give you a thorough scratching.@
Firbolg was uncertain what she meant; he shifted in his bonds again.
APerhaps,@ Sela said with the subtlest mischief in her smile, Awe should start at the bottom and work our way up.@
It was not until the three of them had moved to the other side of the stocks and drawn off his sandals (a task that took Ariadne both hands to accomplish), leaving his huge bare feet helpless and immobilized, that Firbolg realized their gambit.
AOh, no, my ladies, really. There=s no need to concern yourselves with the bottoms of my feet. I have no itches there.@
ANo?@ Sela purred sultrily. ANot here?@ Her fingernail touched one massive sole directly in the center and scratched with the minutest motion.
Firbolg gritted his teeth; his toes curled into a white-knuckled fist. ANo, not there. Not anywhere.@
AHow about here?@ Ariadne asked, wide-eyed, as she zipped one finger lightly from the base of his smallest toe down the edge of his sole to the heel, making his whole massive body jolt. Firbolg shook his great head, his toes wriggling actively in a futlile attempt to dull sensation. ALadies, please...@
Ellara looked straight into his pleading eyes--no touch of mercy showed in hers. AI think, ladies, with feet this large, we will have to be more systematic if we hope to find Mr. Firbolg=s itch.@
With that, she began industriously scratching at the sole of the barefooted half-giant=s foot. She used both hands on one sole, scratching in the center of the arch in a vigorous up and down pattern. Firbolg, unable to control himself, began to roar and wheeze with laughter. Sela, grinning, said a single word in some occult language and the half-giant found himself gagged, his roars and bellows muffled.
All three women now devoted themselves unpretentiously to tickling Firbolg=s bare feet. Ariadne had wrapped his left foot up in her arms to gain control and purchase and now tormented his bare wiggling toes. Sela very delicately drew her fingernails in slow patterns over the breadth of his foot-bottom, creating a maddening contrast in sensation to Ellara=s more straightforward attack. Red-faced, Firbolg whinnied and hollered into the gag as tears rolled into his moustache. He was in a state of utter torment--the three vixens had obviously come down only to torment him in his captivity. As he whinnied and wiggled his great toes as the blonde women tickled his bare feet, Firbolg fought against his bonds.
At a signal from Sela, the women stopped their tickling. A curious light sparkled in her cool, cruel eyes. AWould you ladies be so kind as to leave me alone with Sir Firbolg for a time?@ She asked.
Obviously disappointed, Ariadne and Ellara padded out of the room. They paused at the door to blow taunting kisses at Firbolg, then left and locked the door behind them. Firbolg=s eyes narrowed curiously. ANot to worry,@ Sela said. AI have a key.@ She lowered the front of her gown to reveal a brass key nestled in her considerable cleavage. The dress was snug enough that Firbolg could see that her nipples were hard. Her tongue moistened her lower lip. AI=m so pleased to have this time alone with you, Firbolg. You see, mirth energy may well be the wave of magic=s future, and you have proven a marvelous and delightful source of that. But we are compelled to turn all that we draw forth over to Mistress Lorelei. Now, I am a sorceress of some ability myself--a wielder of fertility magicks. Thus, my components are a bit more complicated than Lorelei=s to come by. I have little access to those with giant blood, like yourself, so I must take advantage of opportunities as they present themselves.@
Firbolg, still gagged, realized with some trepidation what this sorceress vixen planned to do. Her husky breathing had come to match his dwindling heaves from the foot-tickling. Taking a large glass vial from her robes, Sela drew Firbolg=s breeches down as far as his splay-legged position would allow. Her cool, ice-blue eyes looked archly into his as her soft hands caressed his enormous testicles, coaxing his great cock to life . He whimpered slightly, unable to deny the ecstasy her hands afforded him.
AMy god,@ she breathed, eyes wide at the sheer size of his member as it surged to full erection. She smiled saucily. AIt appears you=re more giant than not, sir Firbolg.@ She leaned forward to whisper in his ear, stroking his cock with hands made slick with soapy water. AI shall hold this image in my imagination as I pleasure myself in the bath tonight,@ she cooed, evoking an image in the half-giant=s mind that sent a throb through his already swollen balls.
Firbolg moaned into the gag. He was no longer able to resist her hands, and now did his best to gently thrust his throbbing cock into her massage. She teased and tickled his balls while caressing his erection, and occasionally whispered little erotic details in his ear (AI fear I=ve soaked these panties,@ AI=ll wager you=ll come like a geyser,@ etc.) Very soon (almost embarassingly soon for the half-giant, who still had a modicum of self-possession about him) he felt the first hint of approaching orgasm. His moans got louder, his thrusts became more animated. The stocks creaked and complained as her soap-slick hands travelled the length of his engorged cock, coaxing the semen forth. AYes! Yes! Come, you great beast of a man!@ Sela whispered, her face alive with excitement, her thighs rubbing gently together. She uttered a word and the neck of the bottle she had brought over extended to fit directly over the head of Firbolg=s cock. She squeezed his balls and gave his penis a prodigious upward stroke and Firbolg came, hollaring throatily into the gag as the climax of his pleasure was upon him. Sela milked his great balls and kept up her massaging touch as blast after copious blast of giant-come filled the glass bottle, which had to adjust its size considerably to accommodate the entirety of Firbolg=s orgasm. Once he had finished, Sela unpretentiously snaked a hand between her golden, lithe-muscled thighs and masturbated swiftly to her own climax.
As the waves of her self-induced pleasure subsided and the haze cleared from her ice-blue eyes, Sela was greeted by a not-entirely welcome sight. Firbolg stood free before her, clad once again in his breeches and sandals. The spasms of his ejaculation had finally broken the bonds that his earlier struggles had weakened, and in the fifteen seconds or so that his captor had devoted to her own self-pleasure he managed to free himself. In two quick motions he snatched the mirth-energy pendant from around her soft throat and lifted her sternly but gently from the floor. AIt=s been fun, Sela,@ Firbolg said, Abut I=m afraid I=ll be choosing the games now.@

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Two minutes later, after Firbolg had rechecked the bolt on the door and used a clean handkerchief (he was, after all, a gentleman) to gag the defiant but fearful Sela, he settled down in front of his captor-turned-captive. The stocks, now broken, had in any event been far too large to hold her, so Firbolg had taken a length of thick rope and essentially mummified the lovely sorceress. Only her stylishly coiffed head and bare feet protruded from the ends.
ANow, then,@ Firbolg said. AI dislike mistreating ladies, even those who torment me. But I require some answers from you about this@ --he held up the mirth medallion -- Aand about the dark elf who has seized command from Maeve.@ Confident that her magicks couldn=t affect him while he held her medallion, he removed her gag for a moment.

AI can tell you nothing,@ she said. ALorelei would punish me terribly for such a betrayal. Besides,@ she smirked, Aa soft-hearted being like you would not stoop to torturing a woman. Especially one who has given you such pleasure.@
In spite of himslef, Firbolg felt a twinge in his recently-emptied stones. AThat is true,@ he admitted. AI would not use violence against you. But, as I have been recently taught, there are other ways of tormenting a body until she cracks.@ He re-gagged her, despite her protestations. AI fear my touch is not light enough for your delicate body,@ he said, relishing the fear in her sparkling eyes, Abut I should think a confession of wrong-doing, if presented in a convincing manner, would get you into as much trouble as the wrongdoing itself.@
Firbolg gave her a wink, then produced a quill pen and bottle of ink from his pouch. Sela regarded him, puzzled, until he pulled up a stool at the barefoot woman=s feet. Then, realization set in, and she began to utter muffled protests and squirm ineffectually.
ALet=s see,@ Firbolg said, teasingly. ADear Lorelei...@
As the half-giant began scratchily writing on the soles of her bare feet, Sela let out a howl of tortured, ticklish laughter that disappeared into her gag. Firbolg=s face was a parody of scholarly studiousness as the quill pen traced delicate letters across her soft, wrinkled foot-bottoms. The desperately ticklish Sela=s bare toes wiggled and squirmed, flexing and furrowing the bottoms of her feet so that they made quite an unsuitable writing surface. Firbolg shook his head in dismay. AAlas, my dear, I fear we shall have to start over. Your wriggling has defiled my penmanship.@
Sela looked at him in puzzlement until he brought a soft deck-scrubbing brush and a bucket of soapy water over to where they sat. Then, her eyes snapped shut and she wailed in ticklish laughter again as he scrubbed gently at her bare soles, washing away the ink.
He went on like that for some half hour, as long as he felt he could safely do so without fear of interruption. Revenge was sweet--lamentably ticklish as his own great feet had proven to be, Sela=s were far more sensitive. Each gentle scratching of the quill across the balls of her feet, under her toes, or, worst of all, in the cool, high hollow of her arch sent electric shockwaves through her shapely body. Her laughter turned to squeaking, then to muffled cooing as the giant wrote, erased, and wrote again. Finally, Firbolg used one hand to hold back her wiggle-prone toes and inscribed a simple message across her taut soles. Exposed in this way, the bottoms of Sela=s bare feet were considerably more ticklish, and she jolted and screamed with renewed energy as he wrote with sure, even strokes across the most ticklish part of the center of her soles. At last, the awful tickling stopped, and the blonde sorceress slumped, exhausted. Tears had soaked the gag in her mouth.
Firbolg rose to appraise his work. Across the shapely footsoles was scrawled, AI released the giant .@ He nodded once, and crept with surprising stealth toward a secret door in the rear of the brig. He paused to glance back at the still gasping, bound form of Sela, teasingly put a shushing finger to his lips, and vanished into the shadows. ANow,@ he thought, AThere=s a rogue player in this little drama.@

good story!